


A Beautiful Mess

by nicky_writes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Forbidden Love, M/M, Slow Burn, guys this is really bad, obikin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:17:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicky_writes/pseuds/nicky_writes
Summary: The year is 1863, and Qui-Gon Jinn has brought Anakin Skywalker to Temple Hall in the South of England to live with him and his adoptive son, Obi-Wan Kenobi, despite Anakin's lack of finances and noble background. Obi-Wan, however, is not enthusiastic about his father's new charge, and thus a rivalry between the two of them breaks out, especially after Qui-Gon gives his son the responsibility of turning Anakin into a gentleman worthy of high-class society. However, as time goes on, their mutual hatred for each other begins to fade into something resembling a forbidden romance that will change both of their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

It was common knowledge that Obi-Wan Kenobi was the most desired bachelor in the South of England. Every family with a young lady in it was desperate to pedal her to Mr. Kenobi in the hopes that, perhaps, he’d take a liking to her. Maybe, just maybe, he would fall madly in love and sweep her and her relatives into a life of fortune and glamor the likes of which they’d never even dreamed of. 

But, year after year, ball after ball, lady after lady, he still remained single, dwelling in Temple Hall, his grand manor on the hill, with only his father and servants. People speculated, of course. They spread rumors of him being broken hearted from a love long past, rumors of him having a secret, terrible temper that kept any lady he did let past his charming outer shell from staying with him - anything to explain how he had yet to marry. And then there were darker rumors, ones that no one dared to believe - people who’d seen him sneak away with a male within his staff, who’d seen him in the passionate embrace of a figure who was just a bit too tall or broad to have been a woman. Of course, they were all hushed and forgotten as soon as they were uttered; it was unthinkable that a man with a reputation like his could ever commit such sinful acts. 

And so, as months and years went by, he was still invited into the homes of anyone with a daughter over 16, and he still asked the most beautiful party-goers if they would give him the honor of a dance. But his eyes, as kind as they shone, never sparked with desire or intrigue, no matter how lovely his partner was. That is, until one day when something unexpected crossed the sea to find itself at his door… 

__________

Anakin jolted awake as the carriage hit a particularly deep pothole in the dirt road beneath them. Blinking blearily to clear his eyes, he shook his head, feeling his curls smack against his tanned cheeks as he did so. 

“Awake, then, are you?”

Humming, he glanced to the other side of the cabin to see Qui-Gon Jinn smirking at him, a mischievous gleam, as always, settled deep within his eyes. 

“Yes,” Anakin sighed, straightening his posture and wincing as his back popped several times in the process. “How long have I been asleep?” 

“Oh, I’d say since noon,” the older man responded. Turning his head to the window, Anakin took in the way the sun dipped low, burning red as sat perched upon the horizon. 

“We’ll be arriving at Temple Hall within the next half hour, I’d say,” Jinn continued. “So wipe the rest from your eyes. You’ll be meeting my son soon.”

“Obi-Wan?” the boy clarified, stifling a yawn as he rubbed at the crust that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He’d heard much about this Obi-Wan since meeting Qui-Gon. The man apparently thought the two would get along swimmingly, as he’d put it. Anakin was a bit skeptical. For the past several years or so he hadn’t gotten along with anyone. Not since…

Well. It would do him no good to think about that now. 

As he watched the darkening scene of the evening pass by his window, his blue irises settled on a dark lump perched atop a hill higher than the rest that rolled through the countryside. Squinting, he tried to make sense of it in the low light, but he stopped when he heard a chuckle sound from his companion. 

“Don’t strain yourself; we’ll soon be within the Hall. And then you can become well acquainted with every inch of it, if that’s what you desire,” his friend chided him. His lips twitched into a small smile, and he once more sat back against the cushioned seat, the luxuriance of which he was still getting used to. 

“We both know I don’t have the patience to study every inch,” he quipped, which earned another laugh from Qui-Gon. 

“How true that is,” he acknowledged. 

After this, the pair fell into a companionable silence, with Qui-Gon studying his new friend’s ever-changing expression and Anakin watching the approaching manor, eyes wide as it became more and more clear just how enormous it was. 

“You live here?” he asked as they pulled around to the front of it, turning to the older man with wonder glistening in his youthful eyes. 

“Of course,” was the answer. The driver finally pulled the carriage to a halt and jumped down from his seat, opening the door for the two men inside. Bending his tall form so as not to bump his head, Qui-Gon exited first, motioning for the other to do so as well. Gulping, Anakin followed him, almost letting out a groan as he stretched his legs for the first time in what felt like ages. His hands twitched at his side, wanting nothing more than to tug and pull at the uncomfortable, expensive clothes that had been gifted to him, but he forbid them to do so. He was a gentleman now; he’d have to find some way to feel at home in his new skin. 

“Welcome to your new home, Mr. Skywalker,” Qui-Gon smiled, sweeping his hand towards the massive building. Grinning, Anakin took in its stone face, the lions carved out of granite flanking either side of the grand set of doors that were now being opened by two servants. His gaze was drawn away from the ostentatious building, however, when a figure came walking swiftly out towards them, hopping down the steps gracefully towards Qui-Gon. 

“Father!” he called, and immediately Qui-Gon stepped forward, meeting the man and drawing him into a tight embrace. 

“Obi-Wan, how good it is to see you,” he exclaimed, patting the younger man on the back several times before drawing away. “My stars, you’ve grown a beard!”

“Well, I had to do something to keep things interesting while you were away,” he laughed. Pulling away from his father, this ‘Obi-Wan’ turned to Anakin, and if he’d been a weaker man, his knees would have become weak upon finally seeing the face of the man before him. 

Qui-Gon was right; this man did have a beard, which framed his face and accentuated the clean line of his jaw. Eyes that were blue like Anakin’s smiled at him, and his hair was a shade of reddish-blonde that made them all the more bright. 

“And this must be the Anakin Skywalker you mentioned in your last letter,” he stated, holding out a hand. “A pleasure to have you as a guest in our house.” 

Reaching forward, the young man took the hand that was offered to him as Qui-Gon spoke up beside them. 

“Oh, he’s no guest, Obi-Wan,” he corrected. “Anakin will be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” 

An eyebrow twitched upwards on his son’s face, but everything else about him spoke polite surprise. 

“Oh! Forgive me,” he said, finally dropping Anakin’s hand. “My father failed to mention that in our correspondence. Well, then, we are honored to have you at Temple Hall. Please, come inside. You’re from America, correct? I’m willing to bet you haven’t had anything that will compare to English tea.” 

“Oh,” Anakin floundered, still taken off guard by the sight of this man. Everything about him screamed regality, from the curve of his lips to the tone of his voice. “I-I would like that very much. Thank you, Mr. Jinn.” 

“Kenobi,” he corrected, causing Anakin’s brow to furrow in confusion. 

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, following along as the two other men started ascending the stairs up towards the home. 

“My last name. I’m guessing Qui-Gon didn’t mention that I’m not his son by birth?” 

“In all other regards, you are my own child, Obi-Wan,” the older man chided. “Whoever happened to father you by blood is of no concern to me.” 

Anakin, still reeling from this revelation, simply nodded his head. Where he came from, no one could be considered noble unless they were born into it. But here… Well. Maybe they did things differently in England. 

Following them inside, he was greeted with a lavish receiving room, complete with marble columns and several statues that looked to be worth more money than Anakin had ever seen. He paused with the other men to take off his outer coat, and then was led further into the home, all the while listening as Qui-Gon and his adoptive son chattered. 

“Has New York changed much since I was last there?” Obi-Wan was saying, eyes only on his father as he did so. Awkwardly, Anakin trailed behind the pair, trying to busy himself with observing the decor that was spread throughout the place. 

“No, not really. Still full of smog and people hoping to cheat you out of money. This time, though, I found a diamond in the rough. Isn’t that right, Anakin?” 

“Are you referring to me?” he asked, quirking his lips up. “I would say I’m less like a diamond and more of a lump of coal.” 

“Nonsense!” Jinn laughed, reaching back to pat his shoulder and guide him forward until he was walking in the middle of the three of them. Laughing nervously, he glanced at the two men, catching briefly a look of what appeared to be annoyance cross Kenobi’s features. Maybe it was just in his head, though. Now, the bearded man regarded him with a kind smile, seeming to ask his next question with an eager lilt in his tone. 

“My father hasn’t told me much about how the two of you met,” he noted. “Perhaps you could fill me in on some details?”

“Oh,” Anakin stated, feeling once again the urge to scratch at his collar well up within him like an itch. “There really isn’t much to tell.” 

As he spoke, he was guided into a sitting room, complete with a vast fireplace that almost took up a whole wall. Around it, several stuffed chairs sat, and Obi-Wan made towards one as he addressed a servant in the room. 

“Martha, could you bring us three cups of tea?” 

“Of course, my lord,” she nodded, bowing her head before walking briskly out of the room. Turning once more to Anakin, he waved towards another chair as he sat down in his. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said. “And, by the way, even if there isn’t much to tell, I’d still love to hear the story of how my father met you.” 

“Well,” Anakin started, sinking into his seat. “I...was a bit of a troublemaker. We met on a busy road and got into a confrontation when I bumped into him-”

“He picked my pocket,” Qui-Gon interrupted, causing a hot blush to spread over Anakin’s cheeks. “But when I asked him about it, he was so polite that I almost felt inclined to let him keep it. That’s when I knew he could be a valuable friend to have.” 

“For any pick-pocketing that needs to be done?” Obi-Wan deadpanned, causing a small frown to come to his lips. 

“Your father thought I could help him with his business ventures,” he stated, causing the other man’s eyes to return once more to his. Taking a deep breath, he continued, determined to show that those days were behind him. 

“I may not come from wealth, but I know how business works. I’ve been around it my whole life,” he stated. “I know when someone is being unfair or lying, and I know an honest deal when I see it. I understand that how I came to be in this household is...unconventional, but now that I’m here, I have no doubt that I will be of use. You can count on that, Mr. Kenobi.”  
For a moment, the two men did nothing but look at each other, determination dwelling with one set of blue eyes while the other held an expression of impassive curiosity. Despite the somewhat doubtful glint to his irises, though, Obi-Wan’s mouth curled into a soft smile that spoke of peace. 

“Of course, Mr. Skywalker. I trust my father’s judgement. I’m sure you’ll improve things around here greatly,” he amended, bowing his head in a show of respect. When he raised it once more, Anakin knew, without a doubt, that the polite facade he kept up was nothing more than that - a front to distrust and dislike that made his blood boil. He didn’t believe a single kind word that left his mouth, and he knew that Anakin saw that. He read it in the haughty lift of his right eyebrow and the edge that rested upon his smile. But instead of calling him out on it, like he would’ve done on the streets of New York, he simply let his own face mirror Kenobi’s. A nice smile with the smallest flash of teeth and an incline of the head that said all was forgiven, even if just the opposite was true. 

“Thank you for your gracious words, Obi-Wan,” he spoke, standing from his chair. “I would enjoy nothing more than to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I’m quite tired from my travels. If it’s not too rude of me, I think i’ll retire to one of the rooms here within your splendid home.” 

“Please, help yourself,” Kenobi replied, shoulders stiff ever since the young man used his first name to address him. Turning towards the door, he watched as the same servant from earlier walked in, a tray with three steaming teacups perched atop it. 

“Thank you, Martha,” Obi-Wan smiled. “Could you leave that tray here with us and escort Mr. Skywalker to his rooms? Put him in the Catherine suit, the one just down the hall from my quarters. I assure you, Anakin, they are the finest guest rooms we have to offer.” 

Smirking at the slight emphasis the bearded man put on the word “guest”, Anakin nodded his head and bowed stiffly to Qui-Gon, then his son. 

“Thank you both once again for your kindness,” he murmured. “I bid you goodnight.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, hands clenched into fists within the pockets of his pants, and left behind the two men he would be living with and that third cup of tea, rapidly cooling in the air that had been chilled by the coming of night time and the new rivalry which would only grow in the days to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you guys think!

Anakin woke up the next morning in a soft bed and exquisite room that made him, for a moment, wonder if he’d died and gone to heaven. But then, he remembered two things. First, that he was in the residence of Qui-Gon Jinn and his adopted son Obi-Wan Kenobi. Then, he remembered that, if there really were places people went to when they died, he certainly wouldn’t be going to God’s heavenly gates. Quite the opposite, actually. 

Sitting up in bed, he tilted his head first to the right, then to the left, letting out a soft groan when he felt something pop. Smiling softly, he stood up, taking his first steps of the day towards a curtained window. Pushing the thick green velvet back, he looked out over the wide expanse of grassy hills and gardens that made up Temple Hall. For it was not just the ornate building that earned this title; no, it was the land that made up most of the property. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered to himself. He could still not believe that this was now his home. 

Looking down at his mostly-naked body, he bit his lip and thought of just how out of place he looked. Standing in just his undergarments, his torso was on full display. And as muscular as it was from the hard life he’d led, there were still bountiful scars that betrayed his lack of a wealthy past. His hands were rough and calloused from moving boxes and installing factory machines - so unlike the smooth palms of Qui-Gon Jinn and his son. 

Movement caught Anakin’s eye, and turning towards his right he saw the form of Obi-Wan himself walking towards one of the manor’s back doors. He looked as if he was coming from the stables; Anakin could see even from his high vantage point the mud that caked Kenobi’s boots and the riding crop tucked into his belt. 

His breath caught, though, when the other man’s face leant upwards, immediately spotting Anakin’s form in the window. For one brief moment, the two made eye contact, but then, with reddened cheeks and a troubled expression, Obi-Wan looked forward once more and rushed inside of the building. 

Lovely. The two already hated each other, and now Anakin’s rival had seen him mostly naked. 

As Anakin started getting dressed for the day, he thought of the night before, of the tension that rested between him and his mentor’s son. At first, he’d thought that Obi-Wan was a pleasant fellow. But all it took was one slip on Kenobi’s part - one quirk of the eyebrow, one honest flash in his eyes - to give him away. Anakin was used to hostility; it was commonplace where he came from. And he could read people like the back of his own hands. He knew that Obi-Wan despised his presence, that he thought Anakin was unworthy of the plate set before him. 

But Anakin was good at proving people wrong. That’s what he told himself, at least, when he stepped out of his quarters and headed towards the dining room. Eventually, after some searching, Anakin found it, walking briskly towards the sound of voices. 

“...pathetic lifeform,” Obi-Wan was saying as he got closer. “Can’t you see that he will damage the way people view us? He is quite obviously a peasant-”

“What makes us better than him, Obi-Wan? Tell me, what about him is so distasteful that it’s made you forgotten all of the lessons on kindness I’ve taught you?” Qui-Gon insisted. For a moment, Anakin let himself pause and smile; he couldn’t remember the last time that someone had stuck up for him. 

The moment passed, however, and before Obi-Wan could further argue with his father, Anakin walked in, trying to appear happy and ignorant of the conversation the two men had been having. 

“Good morning,” he stated, taking the seat at Qui-Gon’s right. “The bed in my room is lovely; thank you so much for recommending the Catherine Suite to me, Obi-Wan.” 

Smirking, he could see a muscle twitch in the aristocrat’s jaw, but soon Kenobi was smiling right back at him. 

“It is no problem, Mr. Skywalker. I am happy to hear that you are comfortable here.” 

“You’re too kind,” Anakin responded. Looking up, he saw three servants come walking in, each carrying trays loaded down with covered plates. Sitting up straighter, he smiled at them as they set their food down before each of the men, curtseying before they then silently filed out. 

“How many servants do you have?” he asked, licking his lip as he lifted the cover off of his tray. Steam immediately wafted out from under it, and he nearly groaned when he saw the meal he would be having. Eggs, bacon, sausage, fresh tomatoes, beans… He very well might have been drooling, but he didn’t care. 

“We have a total of twenty five servants,” Qui-Gon answered, looking down at his plate with a nonchalant expression, as if he got to have such a feast every day. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to Anakin that they did, in fact, get to partake in such foods each day, but the thought was not there for long as he started to devour the food in front of him. 

For a few minutes, there were no sounds other than the clinking of Anakin’s silverware and the smacking of his lips as he engorged his plate of food. He hadn’t even realized how hungry he’d been before. But now that the delicious smell of an English breakfast was before him, he didn’t stop shoveling food into his mouth until there was nothing left on his plate. 

“That was delicious,” he sighed, finally looking up at his hosts. 

Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were simply looking at him - Qui-Gon, with a look of sympathetic doubt, and Obi-Wan with a surprised, disgusted countenance. Anakin didn’t know what to say or what he’d done until, eventually, Obi-Wan blinked and picked up his own fork. 

“You…must have been hungry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human consume food at that rate,” he remarked. Blushing furiously, Anakin looked down at the plate he’d just scraped clean and realized what it was that had them both staring at him. He really had destroyed his food; as he once more looked up, he took in the way Kenobi and Jinn were peacefully cutting their eggs and felt hot humiliation well up in his chest. 

“I… I’m sorry,” he finally stammered. 

“Don’t be,” Qui-Gon said between bites. “Please, don’t give it a second thought. You haven’t really had a proper meal, have you?” 

“No, not really,” he answered, clasping his hands in his lap. 

“Well, it’s of no consequence,” Jinn assured him, stirring a cube of sugar into his Earl Grey. “You’ll learn etiquette before we take you to your first party.” 

“...Party?” he asked, voice hinting at nothing but surprise. 

“Yes, Mr. Skywalker,” Obi-Wan answered. “There are many other homes in the area that throw parties almost every week. There will be meals and dancing and talk of business. I’m sure you will have no trouble.” 

But, from the amused quirk of his eyebrow and the faint, haughty smile tugging at his mouth, it looked as if Obi-Wan believed anything of the sort. It looked as if he was internally laughing at Anakin, and it took every ounce of his willpower to keep his face from looking too murderous. 

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Obi-Wan,” he simply responded. He thought, for a moment, that that would be it. How wrong he was. 

“Yes, Obi-Wan. I’m glad to hear that you have such faith in our friend,” Qui-Gon responded coolly. “I’m sure that, after your lessons, he will be even more equipped to blend in to high society.” 

Furrowing his eyebrows, Obi-Wan paused from taking the bite he already had raised halfway to his mouth. Setting his fork down carefully, he straightened his posture and addressed his father. 

“...Lessons? What lessons, pray tell?” 

“Oh, have I forgotten to tell you?” Jinn murmured, putting on a look of obviously fake surprise. “Well. I’ve decided that you will give Anakin lessons on etiquette and behavior.” Turning to Anakin, he continued. “Please don’t take offense to this, my boy. You may act however you wish while you’re here amongst just us and our employees. But the people in the community are known for being stuffy, and-”

“Surely you are joking,” Obi-Wan interrupted, his mask of serenity cracking around the edges. “I have responsibilities and duties of my own. We can hire a tutor to teach Mr. Skywalker.”

“We can,” Qui-Gon nodded. “But we won’t. I don’t trust them as much as I trust you. And I believe that it will give you a chance to bond with our new friend. Don’t you think?”

Staring each other down across the table, the father and son were silent, causing Anakin to squirm in his seat. Tugging at the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, he thought about what Qui-Gon had just said. He did need to learn how to behave within the high-class of England, but there was so much ill will between him and Obi-Wan. He didn’t want to have to be stuck receiving lessons from a man who so clearly hated him. 

After while, however, Kenobi heaved a sigh and turned his gaze to Skywalker. 

“Stop fidgeting,” he instructed, standing up from his seat. “Your lessons will begin tomorrow in the library. Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I will retire to my study. Good day.” 

And with that, Obi-Wan walked away, leaving his tray of hardly-touched food. 

“No offense, Qui-Gon,” Anakin spoke up once it was just the two of them, “But I have a bad feeling about this.” 

“My boy, so do I,” the older man smirked. “But good things often start out with a risk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Feel free to leave a comment, and if you want, follow me on tumblr at nickywritesimagines.tumblr.com. Thanks!


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